


Black

by hanyou_elf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Rape/Non-con References, Underage Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanyou_elf/pseuds/hanyou_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a master of giving up what he wants to get what he needs</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time that Dean Winchester has sex, he’s fourteen. It’s not like it’s a terrible experience but it does hurt. But, Dean figures that shoving something up his butt is supposed to hurt. He doesn’t cry even though he bleeds.

Mr. Somerset is always so nice to him. He tells Dean that he’s special. That Dean deserves the help that he’s being given. And sometimes, the help has to be repaid. Dad’s already explained the concept to him- reciprocity. To get something, you have to give something. He needs to pass this year so he can be a junior, but he can’t pass without the help. English and literature have always been his hardest subject.

So when Mr. Somerset offers to tutor him, Dean can’t resist. He learns what he needs to learn, but while he’s doing it, then Mr. Somerset is touching him. They stay at school for a while, until Mr. Somerset decides that it will be easier to teach Dean in his own home.

Dean explains away the longer days at school with a simple excuse to Dad. He’s being tutored, being tutored means that he’s going to be late coming home. Dad doesn’t like it, but he accepts it, has no choice but to do so. Dean doesn’t tell Dad that they’re in Mr. Somerset’s home, and he’s not really sure about why, but he knows that he shouldn’t.

When Mr. Somerset makes Dean suck his dick the first time, he thinks he might gag and choke on it. Mr. Somerset isn’t gentle about what he’s doing. He doesn’t try to make things easier for Dean. He holds onto the short hair at the back of Dean’s head and just rocks his hips, pushing the hard flesh deeper into his throat. It’s disgusting. Dean doesn’t know what to do, and just when he feels like he’s about to gag and throw up, his throat constricts and Mr. Somerset grunts and comes.

Dean is disgusted by the thick heat that slides down his throat. Mr. Somerset pets his head and sends him home, like it’s something normal, for the older man. The things continue on for a while, for nearly two months. Dean gets better at learning to suck dick. He can even swallow without gagging when Mr. Somerset comes. He can swallow the man down deeper. But that doesn’t satisfy the man for long. Eventually, Mr. Somerset wants more.

Dean doesn’t stop him. He’s been passing all of his classes, and he’s doing well and he doesn’t want to give that up. So when the end of the year comes closer and the finals come up, Dean knows that the yearly review is going to be difficult. It’s going to take more of Mr. Somerset’s time, and he has to give more of himself.

Mr. Somerset takes him home as usual and in a show of difference, he takes Dean to the bedroom. Dean doesn’t know what he’s going to be expected to do, but Mr. Somerset is quick to tell him, to teach him. He has Dean get naked and kneel on the bed. He braces himself on his hands and knees with his head bowed. He clenches his eyes shut tight and waits with anticipation.

Mr. Somerset whispers nice words that are supposed to sooth Dean while he pushes his fingers into the teen’s body, stretching them. His fingers are wet and cold. They push into his body and stretch his ass out, opening him for Mr. Somerset. This is new. He doesn’t know how to react to the feeling of disgust that permeates everything.

“So good for me, Dean,” Mr. Somerset breathes into Dean’s naked back. “This is going to hurt, but I want you to be as quiet as possible and I want you to take it. I know you can.”

Dean nods and the fingers pull free from his body. Dean doesn’t stop the sigh of relief. It’s short-lived though because Mr. Somerset replaces them with something thicker, hotter, and still covered in the cold wetness. There’s a heavy hand braced in the small of his back and Dean wants to scream as he’s torn apart.

The only thing that saves him is the training with Dad. Dad taught him to compartmentalize injuries, to allow him time to get somewhere else for treatment. Dean breathes and forces his tight body to relax. It feels like he’s being ripped apart. Mr. Somerset’s dick is hard and unyielding. He has no mercy as he bottoms out. Pausing for just long enough to gasp, he sets a rhythm that’s hard to keep.

He rides Dean’s ass and pets his back and thighs. When he finally comes, Dean sobs in relief. Mr. Somerset hadn’t worn a condom and now his ass is filled with the older man’s come. The shit burns as he coats the muscles that were stretched too little.

“We’ll work on that. You did well for your first time. A little studying and some hands-on practice, and you’ll be brilliant,” Mr. Somerset advises.

When he pulls out, there’s an honest to God pop.


	2. 2

The first time Dean has sex with a girl, he's sixteen. For the past year, Dad's been teasing him about his lack of female companionship. He's given Dean the talk and encouraged his oldest son to enjoy female companionship, as long as does so respectfully and safely.

Dean doesn't know how to tell his father he's not a virgin. He doesn't know how to explain how dirty he feels, how he doesn't want to make another person feel like this.

It's not compassion that drives him to his solitude, its shame.

Dean likes girls enough. They are pretty. But they don't offer anything. Not like men do. Men his Dad knows nothing about.

It's easier to pretend hesitancy, rather than explaining the lack of reciprocity.

But Dad's adamant that Dean learn intimately about girls, so Dean does what his father wants.

When Dean finds a woman he's confident enough to pursue, he understands that she's a whore. She sells her body to men. Dean knows he won't make her dirty.

She kisses his shoulder and neck while her hands slide over his body. She teases him and it's more than he could've expected.

She gets them both naked quickly. There's a wink as she climbs into his lap. "You just let me take care of you," she promises.

Her hand is warm as it slides the condom down his dick. His eyes close as she touches him.

"Now you watch this," she says.

She kisses at his lips, nothing serious, just pressing her lips to Dean's, teasing. She arches her back. With an arm braced against Dean's knee, she slides her fingers down and between her legs.

"Watch me, baby," the whore murmurs. She crooks her fingers and thrusts her hips into them. "Play with us here."

Dean follows her directions and slides a finger in with her hand. She's wet and hot. Something that he's not particularly fond of, but she clenches her eyes shut and bites her bottom lip. Dean likes that, it's sexy and vulnerable.

He slips his finger as far into her body as he can from the awkward angle and strokes her. She's slick.

Before he can get too used to the smooth inner canals, she takes his finger and pulls it up to the apex of her crotch.

She drags the tip of his finger over a surprisingly stiff bump. She gasps and jerks against him. As she moves, moisture drags across his naked thigh.

"That's good, baby. Now, fuck me," she demands breathily.

She lifts herself and grips his dick at the base. His hands brace against her hips and support her as she lowers herself, sliding his dick deep into her body.

He knows what it feels like to have a hard dick pushed into his body, splitting him open. He knows how much it hurts, but she looks like she's enjoying it.

She grips his shoulders and uses the hold to rock in his lap, fucking herself deep and hard on him. He's not sure he likes this, but damned if it doesn't feel amazing.

It doesn't take long before he's on the boarder of orgasm. She clenches tight around him as she rides him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

Her hand slides back down to her clit and she rubs herself hard and fast.

He comes in a blinding rush of white. She rocks a little bit longer before she gasps and stops, resting against him.

"You did good, baby," she murmurs against his lips.

Dean blushes and looks away as she pulls off of his softening dick. She drags the condom with her, ties it off and tosses it before he can react.


	3. 3

The last time Dean has sex, he has seventeen hours and twenty-two minutes before the hounds of hell come calling for him. He isn’t counting though. If he counts, then he knows that Sammy’s counting the minutes and the hours. He doesn’t want the last bit of time he has with his little brother to be spent counting down the seconds until Hell rips them apart.

Instead, he does something that he knows that he’s good at. He gets Sammy nice and loose and relaxed and then lets his baby brother fuck him. He doesn’t want complete preparation either. He wants it hard and fast and painful. Something he hasn’t had since Sammy convinced him that they having sex together was a good idea.

Men don’t like to share their investments. They don’t want others to play with toys that belong to them. And Dean isn’t stupid. He belongs to Sammy.

So he does what he’s supposed to do. Reciprocity.

Sammy gets Dean’s ass, and Dean gets the satisfaction that Sammy isn’t dead. It’s really not that big of a deal. And worse men have been up his ass.

“Fuck me, Sammy,” Dean demands as he rocks his naked hips against Sammy’s. He’s got him pinned against the wall in the shower. A brief respite from fruitless searching. His hands tangle in Sammy’s too long wet hair, pulling gently as he angles his brother’s head for the perfect kiss. He knows that he shouldn’t slow down Sammy’s canine persistence, but he doesn’t want Sammy to be burned out completely afterwards.

Sammy must be desperate with the time running out on the whole situation. Normally, Sammy doesn’t want to push past anything that Dean’s not completely interested in. They haven’t had sex yet because when Sammy plays with Dean’s ass, his dick limps out. It’s embarrassing, considering the reputation he’s got as a horndog.

Sammy’s lips claim his in a powerful and hungry kiss. His long arms wrap around Dean and pulls him tight against his muscular body. He lifts Dean, like his older brother weighs nothing. His paws travel the length of Dean’s body, tracing the contours of the imperfect vessel he was born into. His back arches when Sammy’s teeth nibble at Dean’s lower lip and the nails on his hands dig into the sensitive skin of his ass.

They aren’t gentle. This is love making. This is desperation. Release and reassurance. Sammy’s prep is cursory, his thick fingers move quickly and before Dean can catch his breath, Sammy’s pushing in. His body stretches as it gives way to Sammy’s invading dick and even though it hurts more than Dean had anticipated, he’s not going to stop this.

Sammy’s eyes flutter closed and his head falls onto Dean’s shoulder when he bottoms out. Dean groans. He’s torn by the perfect feel of Sammy blanketing his body and the pain that he’d never associated with his brother but is more than his due. He wraps his arms around Sammy’s thick neck and uses it as leverage.

A breathy groan that he’s learned to make sexy rather than painful, he rolls his hips along Sammy’s and moves the dick within him. It’s teasing. Mr. Somerset used to tell him that he was perfect at this. That he knew exactly how to clench his body and move his hips to create the best ride. Because he was so good at it, Mr. Somerset had always said he was made for it.

Dean uses his only talent as a whore to bring Sammy over the edge. His long body shakes and his hazel eyes fall closed as he clings to Dean and fucks into him. Dean kisses his brother with a hunger designed to distract and rocks down onto Sammy. When he’s buried as deep as he can go, Dean clenches his muscles and reverses his movements, dragging the vice grip along the length and stopping at the head.

Sammy groans hot and dirty into his ear and explodes.

Dean breathes a contented sigh and relaxes as Sammy does. He doesn’t need to get off. He didn’t really want to. Sammy’ll be pissed about it, but Dean doesn’t care. He wanted to be broken open on Sammy’s dick before the demons came to take him.

“Fuck Dean,” Sammy groans as he pulls his slowly softening dick free. They stand forehead to forehead for a long minute while Sammy regains his breath. When his eyes slide open, Dean knows the minute he sees. “Dean?” Sammy asks with confusion and fear in his shaky voice.

“I wanted it!” Dean protests. “I wanted you.”

"You’re not… Dean, you weren’t hard. You didn’t get off.”

“Yes I did. Just, not like you. ‘M’a whore. Getting you off like that makes me happy.”

“It was never supposed to be like that!” Sammy protests as he wraps his long arms around Dean’s body. Dean holds him, comforts and protects like a good big brother should.

There are sixteen hours and forty nine minutes left before the Hellhounds come calling.


	4. 4

The first night Dean sleeps after his miraculous return from Hell, he wets the couch. Bobby was more than generous in giving him clothing, food, and rest and Dean ruined the gift by pissing himself like a toddler.

He's not sure what he's supposed to do so he improvises. He strips the couch carefully and leaves the damp cushion leaning against the door. How he'll get clean he doesn't know, but he has to try.

Bobby's been too good.

When Bobby wakes in the morning, he finds his couch stripped and the cushions sat carefully around the first floor. And finally, he finds Dean, curled naked in his tub with a blanket for a pillow.

Dean knows he should feel ashamed about what happened, and he does. But stronger than even that, Dean is terrified he's back in Hell. He waits for the proverbial shoe to drop. For Alistair his lord and master, to take him in hand and remind Dean of his place.

It doesn’t happen. Instead, Bobby calls him an idjit and covers him modestly with a towel. Dean is left reeling. He doesn’t talk, unsure of himself after so long. And Dean is a good boy.

“Dean,” Bobby says carefully. “You know you’re top-side. Ain’t nothing happ’nin’ less you want it to.”

Dean just nods. Sometimes, it’s just easier to do what the illusion says. He wraps his bare arms around his naked chest. A gasp escapes as his hand finds the cut in his left arm. It isn’t unbearable pain. In fact, Dean could ignore it completely if he chose.

In Hell, his whole arm would've been ripped off.

"Bobby?" he asks softly, desperately.

The older man sighs wearily. "Tha's right, son. C'mon back."

"M'sorry," Dean whispers, gesturing behind himself at the covers. His voice is full of fear and shame and self-loathing.

“Not the worst thing that’s ever spilled on ‘em,” Bobby reassures gruffly. “Get dressed and we’ll find Sam.”


	5. 5

The first time Dean tries to have sex after Hell is a spectacular failure. He knows he doesn't deserve any special favors. He was a whore once and it should be easy to pick it up again

He finds a man who's interested. He's been drinking far too much and isn't thinking very clearly. He doesn't want to be fucked by this man aliased Peter. But he needs to know he can secure funds.

So he lets Peter escort him to the bathroom. Let's the man shove his pants down to his ankles before opening his own. Peter's dick is hard. Flushed red at the tip and long enough that Dean knows he's going to feel it.

There's an almost crippling rush of fear at what he's about to let happen, but he won't back down. Peter's hands on his hips ground Dean even as they turn him.

Peter doesn’t care that Dean is terrified. He doesn’t care that Dean doesn’t want this anymore. When he’s satisfied with their states of undress, he pulls Dean back, ass to dick.

Dean shudders at the reality of his situation. He’s consented, even if he’s hesitantly terrified now.

Peter rubs along the crease of Dean’s ass, hot hands wrapped around his hips. Dean knows he should stop this. He keeps seeing Alistair, pressing tight and hard and impossible against him on the rack.

Mr. Somerset pushing his small body into a wall at the end of the school year and using him mindlessly.

All the countless men who have just used him, the broken and fucked out toy that he’s always known himself to be. It comes as no surprise when Peter starts to push his slick dick into Dean without prepping him.

They’d made advances at each other all night. Dean braces himself against the bathroom wall and hangs his head. He doesn’t want this, but it’s too late.

Alistair, Mr. Somerset, and Dad have all drilled it into him to finish what he starts. And he’s terrified, but he’ll finish this through. Even if it rips him apart. Peter pushes deep and it’s too much for Dean. He groans and unwillingly, his body tenses, reacting instinctively to the pain.

“C’mon sweetheart, relax,” Peter begs. He can’t hold himself still and his hips continue to thrust shallowly as he rubs Dean’s stomach, his back, and his strained shoulders.

Dean’s ashamed of the tears tracking down his face. He wants to pull off and gut this unobservant asshole, but he won’t. His saving grace comes accidentally.

Some drunken man stumbles into the bathroom. He takes a good long look at Dean’s face and the heavy man behind him before he puts placating hands up before he stumbles back out, stupid grin on his face.

It feels like an eternity, and Peter has worked himself in deeper, before somebody else comes in.

It’s Sammy, and he’s pissed as hell.

“Be real easy and pull out of him now,” Sammy growls as he invades their space.

Strong arms wrap tight around Dean and pull him against the solid chest of his baby brother and former lover. Dean goes willingly enough. He’s done here, has been since it started, but Peter wasn’t.

“We’re just starting,” Peter whines breathlessly.

“Rape.”

The word echoes around the room. Peter’s body tenses and he puts his hands low on Dean’s body. “He consented. He hit me up.”

“Well he ain’t now. Pull out and get gone.”

He’s none too gentle as he hurries to obey. Dean can’t blame him. Sammy’s voice is deep and intimidating. He is a frightening visage. Dean flinches as the head of Peter’s dick pulls out.

Sammy makes a disgusted noise and pulls Dean completely against him in a tight grip. “Were you too stupid to wear a fucking condom? If you’ve got something, I will hunt you down,” Sammy promises darkly. Dean flinches against Sammy’s chest.

Peter says nothing. He buttons himself up and grunts something disgustedly before he stalks out of the bathroom.

“Damnit Dean,” Sammy sighs angrily. “What were you thinking?”

Dean doesn’t answer. He clenches his hands in Sammy’s shirt and bows his head. There’s far too much to say and not enough words.

“I thought you didn’t want to fuck anymore,” Sammy murmurs softly. “You have to talk to me.”

“M’gonna throw up,” he mutters. Sammy lets him go and he stumbles into a stall, retching.

Sammy comes in behind him and rubs his back. He pulls his pants up as much as he can at this angle and offers him the smallest amount of dignity that he can offer his brother.

Sammy comforts him as much as possible. Strokes his hair, and his back. He kisses Dean’s shoulder and back.

“Fuck me,” Dean begs. His voice breaks and trembles as he speaks to the toilet. His body shivers as he braces against the floor, holding himself up shakily.

“Not until you’re ready.”

“I’m fuckin’ ready,” Dean sobs.

Sammy slides a hand up Dean’s back and into the hair at the base of his skull. He grips tightly at the short hair and pulls Dean back.

They cuddle together on the bathroom floor. Dean’s obscene with his jeans low on his hips, limp dick exposed against his denim covered thigh. He doesn’t let it stop him from leaning into Sammy’s comfortingly familiar embrace.

Sammy falls back to sit on his ass and pulls Dean into his lap. Long arms wrap around his chest and hold him. Sammy’s not hard against his ass, and even though he’s demanding to be used, he can’t deny that he’s relieved.

“Let’s go,” Sammy breathes against Dean’s ear.


	6. 6

The first time he and Sammy have sex after Hell, Dean is happy to admit that he’s excited. He’s into the prospect and the idea that he’ll be able to ride Sammy’s hard dick again. He wants to be split open in his brother’s lap, held tight and moved forcibly with the power of Sammy’s body.

He can’t remember the last time he actually wanted to be fucked. It seems like an eternity ago.

Sammy can’t deny him this time though. He doesn’t want to repay a debt in the best way he knows how. He doesn’t want to make amends for some perceived wrong. He just wants to be held down- or pushed against a wall- and fucked. He wants to be ridden hard and put up wet.

When Sammy comes back to the hotel after a food run, Dean is naked. He’s splayed wantonly on the bed, knees lifted as he shows his body off. He’s gained the weight he lost when he tried to kill himself drinking. His muscle tone’s back to what he’d like to consider normal. He knows he looks good. He hasn’t been blind to the want in men and women’s eyes. He’s got a hand behind his head, so his chest and his muscles are shown off, and the other hand is low on his stomach, resting just about the jut of his semi-hard dick.

“Fuck,” Sammy groans.

The food is discarded thoughtlessly atop the complimentary table in their motel room and Sammy pulls his shirt off. His chest and stomach are sculpted perfection and Dean wants to trace each dip and ridge to his satisfaction. He wants the taste of Sammy to explode across his tongue. He wants it to be the only thing he remembers.

“That’s the idea,” Dean grins cockily. He pulls Sammy down tight against him, rocks his hips demandingly up into Sammy’s body and lets the situation speak for itself.

“You’re sure?” Sammy asks, breathless. Moving as he speaks above Dean.

“Fuck me,” Dean whispers as he drags his lips across Sammy’s neck and shoulder.

There are little words left after that. Sammy presses Dean down into the bed and claims his mouth. The kiss is hungry. Sammy more than kisses, he devours like he wants to taste every nuance he can find in Dean’s mouth. His hands roam Dean’s naked body and encourage silently as his brother arches and moans into his mouth.

Denim covered hips rock against him and Dean blindly searches for the button and zipper, intent on pulling the offending material off. Sammy can’t fuck him if he’s clothed. He pulls Sammy’s dick out of the confining fabric and rubs, hard and teasing. He wants Sammy now.

“C’mon,” he begs with no small amount of desperation in his voice. “Fuck me hard,” he demands. He pushes his hips up into Sammy’s and grunts at the feel of them being dick to dick again for the first time in four decades. He wants it too much. “I’m ready. Just, push in.”

“Dean,” Sammy pants against his lips. “Prep. Lube. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Did it already. Wanted to be ready,” he answers. He arches his back the way he knows Sammy likes it, cradles his little brother’s hips in his spread legs, the way he knows Sammy likes it, and demands satisfaction the way he knows Sammy likes.

“Fuck Dean,” Sammy groans. He’s too gentle when he grips himself at the base of his dick and holds the firm globes of Dean’s ass apart with the other. The entry is a slick, tight glide of coming home. Dean’s eyes slide shut in perfection as he rocks into the tentative thrusts that breach him. Sammy doesn’t want to hurt him, has never wanted to seriously hurt him. But Dean needs harder. He won’t demand it though. He knows that Sammy is doing his best.

They rock together, hips knocking together as they race toward the finish. Dean won’t last long, and he knows Sammy won’t either. Dean wraps a hand around his own dick and strokes in tandem with Sammy’s thrusts.

It’s over almost too quickly. Dean hasn’t been with anyone since his return; Sammy since Ruby’s death. Sammy’s seed is hot as it coats him. Brands him.

Dean grunts as he arches his back and comes, filling the space between them with the hot slick of his own semen.

When he can breathe again, Dean clings to Sammy. He holds him tight, lets him know that he’s relieved to have had this moment. That he has his lover again.

The tears come unbidden and completely without permission. He trembles as he clings to his brother, holding tight to him as he lets go. When he’s done he feels not whole, but definitely on the way in a positive direction.

“Love you, jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean mumbles into Sammy’s shoulder.


End file.
